Love in Different Forms
by warrior of the nile
Summary: They aren't a couple. They aren't. Really. Truly. Seriously. Why wouldn't anyone believe John? He's not asking much. He's not claiming Sherlock isn't the most important person in his life. He's just saying they aren't like that. He is not dating Sherlock Holmes. Will you please believe him!


You know those ideas that grab hold of you and won't let you up until you write them, no matter how weird they are? Yeah... this is one of those. I have no other excuse.  
I am in no way an expert on any of this stuff. My research involves reading posts on AVEN. I represent absolutely no one in the asexual/aromatic community. Do not take this as literal truth. I apologize if anyone is offended by this, not my intention at all.

* * *

John comes up the seventeen stairs of the flat in a foul mood. He stomps into the kitchen and begins making tea, muttering angrily to himself. Sherlock observes this from the couch with interest. He cannot make out any of the words besides a creative curse.

"Someone at surgery said something to upset you. Not a patient. You would not have been so affected if it were. A colleague then. One you know rather well. If you didn't you would have no problem either correcting them or ignoring them. Who do you know best then? Sarah. What did she say?"

"Oh you can't deduce that too?" John asks angrily as he sets Sherlock's tea on the coffee table.

"Possibly, but I would need more data. Obviously it's something that struck a nerve. You are exasperated as well as angry."

"Yes. Well done." He throws himself in his chair and glares moodily at the wall.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Are you offering?"

"I've been told it's polite to ask."

John snorts. "Since manners have always been a high priority of yours, right?" A smirk plays on his lips.

"Of course. What do you take me for John? Some uncivilized ruffian?"

John outright laughs at this. "How many body parts will I have to endure if I say yes?"

Sherlock doesn't answer verbally, but mischief dances in his eyes.

"That's what I thought."

Silence descends on the flat. Sherlock continues to stretch across the couch. John opens his laptop and begins a new blog entry. The only noise is the click of the keys and John's occasional sigh.

After the fifth Sherlock finally says "You might as well tell me if you are going to stew about it all night anyways."

"It's nothing. Stupid sentiment."

"Obviously not if it bothers you that much."

"Really, it's fine, Sherlock."

"Don't make me repeat myself John, it's dull."

"Then don't make me repeat myself either."

"Must you be so tiresome?"

"Oh you're one to talk."

"Really John, how am I suppose to be more 'sympathetic' towards people if you discourage my attempts to follow your suggestion?"

John pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yes. I also told you to respect my privacy. Can I expect you to start listening to be in this regard too?"

"Don't be ridiculous John."

"That's what I thought."

Sherlock sits up and stares at his flatmate. "It was a personal comment, that much is clear, but on what?"

"Drop it Sherlock."

Sherlock, of course, does no such thing. "Oh! It was about me- no. About us. A pointed remark about our relationship status?"

"Fine! Yes! She asked if we were finally shagging yet. Because apparently everyone on this bloody island think we are! From the first goddamn day everyone thought we were a couple. And of course no one believes me when I say we aren't like that! Oh no, we can't just be close. We have to be shagging each others brain's out on a regular basis. Heaven forbid that our relationship go against the status quo. The world might end."

Sherlock blinks, taking this information in. "This bothers you because you are not gay?" His tone is uncertain.

"No. I mean, I'm not. I'm bisexual technically. I experimented in my teen years and found that I don't care what's inside the pants. Not that people care about this distinction. No, I'm fine with my sexual orientation."

Sherlock frowns. "Then I fail to see the problem."

"Because we're not like that!" John growls, irritation clear.

"Fine. If it bothers you that much, then I will make it obvious that we are 'not like that'." The hurt in his voice is hidden from everyone, but those who know him best.

"No! Oh fuck." John sighs. "You know I'll stand by you no matter what. I'm not trying to distance myself from you. It's not that I'm ashamed of being with you or am disgusted by the idea. It's just... what do you know about the different orientations?"

"Tedious. I find labels unappealing."

John nods. "I thought so. Just the basics then?"

Sherlock nods. "I understand that different people desire other people differently. But sex always seemed like a waste of time to me. I did try it once, with a boy in uni. He appeared to be interesting and willing. It wasn't stimulating in the least. After that, experimenting seemed pointless, seeing as everyone else is an idiot."

John snorts. "Of course they are." He pauses. "My problem isn't with my sexual orientation... it's with my romantic one."

Sherlock leans forward intently, stapling his fingers. "There is a difference? Obviously, or you wouldn't have said it if there weren't, but why?"

"A desire to understand and classify ourselves. Or our dull need for labels, either one."

Both smirk at each other.

"A person can have a different sexual orientation from their romantic orientation. It's not well known because a lot of people's are the same, but not everyone. Romanticism is on a spectrum just like sexuality."

"And you are?" Sherlock asks when John stops talking.

"Aromatic."

"John, need I remind you I am not a mind reader? While I can make a reasonable conclusion about what that exactly means, I would rather have sound data."

"It means I don't develop romantic feelings for anyone. It doesn't matter who it is, I will not 'love' them like popular media portrays it. Doesn't mean I can't love, just not the accepted way."

"So when people assume we are together..."

"It suggests something more than what it is. It will never be what people think because I'm not capable of being like that." He sighs. "It always comes down to romance. It's set up like the ultimate fulfillment- if you don't have it then something is missing in your life. And god help you if you don't want it because obviously your some kind of freak." He spits the last word out like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

"It's not just for my sake that you put a stop to Donovan and Anderson calling me that," Sherlock observes.

"Not completely. I would have said something even if I didn't have a problem with that word though. It's unprofessional and bloody rude besides. But it's the worst insult I can think of. If I had the power to rid the English language of it, I would in a heartbeat."

"Bad childhood experience."

"More than one and they extend from the time I realized I was different to... well, present day," John confirms. "You will have noticed that I don't date, I look for one night stands. And even those are becoming tedious. At my age, most people are looking for a committed relationship, not a good time with no strings attached."

"Three Continent Watson," is Sherlock's dry reply.

"Ha! What can I say, I like sex. Liked it more when I was younger. When you aren't looking for a partner and want a good shag, you tend to be with more people than the average person. And get a bit of a playboy reputation. Or get called heartless a lot."

"People are idiots."

John laughs. "In this instance, I agree with you."

"They obviously ignored all evidence to the contrary. Even a dimwit can see your compassion and care for other people. You choose their safety over your own. You go out of your way to help them. You made two careers out of protecting people! Anyone who calls you heartless is proof that there is no hope for humanity."

John doesn't say anything, just stares at his friend in amazement. It wasn't often that Sherlock strayed into a conversation that could contain sentiment. Usually he avoids them like the plague. Or Mycroft. Although the two might be linked in his mind...

"Oh do stop staring John. Just because I abhor the discussion of emotions doesn't mean I won't when it is needful."

"And is it?"

"Obviously if you are so troubled by this. You are the best person I have ever met. People are just too stupid to see it."

John smiles. "Thank you."

Sherlock nods.

A comfortable silence resumes then.

"Hungry?" John finally asks.

"Thai," is Sherlock's only answer.

* * *

"How do you feel about Sussex?" Sherlock asks one day with his head on John's lap.

Sherlock had become increasingly tactile after their conversation about John's orientation. It began with brushes of the arm or standing closer than strictly necessary. It progressed to a hand to the small of his back or a firm hold of the wrist to guide or rush him. When John protested to none of these things, Sherlock then decided it was fine to use John as furniture whenever and however he felt like it, including as a pillow.

John can't fathom Sherlock's reasoning behind this. Not that John minds, he just has no bloody clue why. If he was forced to guess, he would have to say there is some twisted reasoning involving the facts the he's bi, he won't interfere with the Work, won't pressure Sherlock into something he's not comfortable with and has a different view on romance/love/sentiment- or something like that anyways. He doesn't know and he stopped questioning Sherlock long ago.

John looks down at him from his book. "Fine. Why?"

"How would you feel about living there?"

"When?"

"After retirement."

"Sounds as good as any other place."

"Good."

"Are you going to explain why?"

"Hmmm."

"That's what I thought."

It's not until he finishes another two chapters that he gets an answer.

"My uncle left me a cottage."

"And what would you do in this cottage without blowing it up?"

"Bees."

"Bees?"

"You heard me the first time, John. Yes. They are fascinating creatures. I would be content to raise them after I can no longer run around London."

"Really?" He runs his hand through Sherlock's curls.

"Yes. There is a village within walking distance of it, but far enough away not to be bothered by the dullness of them."

John laughs. "You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?"  
Sherlock nods.

"I assume this cottage is big enough for two people?"

"Of course."

John chuckles.

"What?"

"It's like the beginning of a bad joke."

Sherlock turns so John can see his raised eyebrow.

"An asexual and an aromatic decide to spend the rest of their lives together."

"Because they are too crazy for anyone else," Sherlock finishes, grinning.

John shakes his head as he goes back to his book. "Nutter."

"Exactly."


End file.
